Parshas Ki Tetze: We Make Choices

Parshas Ki Teitzei is one of those parshios that discusses a wide variety of mitzvos, and very few of them link together in any way other than that they are commandments we must uphold. Some of the mitzvos appear to be chukim, laws that we cannot understand. Indeed, this parsha includes the mitzvah of shooing away the mother bird, a mitzvah of definite action who purpose is rather mysterious and spiritual.  Other mitzvos, however, are exceedingly practical. For example, it includes both the commandment to maintain a hygienic army camp and the prohibition of withholding or delaying wages from a worker.

 

Included in these mitzvos are several pasukim dealing with the very serious issue of not fulfilling one’s vow. “When you make a vow to Hashem your G-d, do not put off fulfilling it, for Hashem your God will require it of you, and you will have incurred guilt; whereas you incur no guilt if you refrain from vowing. You must fulfill what has crossed your lips and perform what you have voluntarily vowed to Hashem your God, having made the promise with your own mouth” (Dvarim 23:22-24).

 

Making a vow – which can be as simple as stating “I promise to…” -  is incredibly powerful. Each of us, every human being, is btzelem E-lo-kim, made in the image of G-d, and Hashem created the world by speaking. What we say matters…but what about what we do not say.

 

Dvarim 23:23 is a fascinating sub-statement: “Whereas you incur no guilt if you refrain from vowing.” If you don’t vow, you won’t get punished for not fulfilling your vow. That seems a fairly obvious statement, but for all of its simplicity, it is actually a rather powerful reminder. Each of us has control over our words. Each of us has control over our actions.

 

If you don’t want to risk breaking your word, then be careful how you give those words. Indeed, in Sukkah 46b, the sages quote Rabbi Zeira: “A person should not promise to give a child something and then not give it.” His reasoning there is that the child may learn to lie, but underneath is the same foundation – our words matter even in situations where we don’t think they are such a big deal, like promising a child a cookie. That concept then expands to the idea that if you don’t want to risk breaking a Torah commandment, do not put yourself deliberately into a situation where you will come to do so.

 

Most of us are not tzadikim. Most of us find ourselves in situations here or there where we must make an active choice against our personal desires in order to maintain our commitment to being ovdei Hashem. Sometimes, being totally honest, we put ourselves in those situations. Devarim 23:23 is a soft, subtle reminder that we have the power to choose where our actions might lead.

 

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas.

 

Parshas Ki Tezei – All for One or One for All

In America, every person is entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness – a philosophical statement of rights, if nothing else. It sounds lovely, and it does appear to be the heart of western society today. The question for a Dvar Torah, however, is what does that have to do with Torah. Do these values line up with Jewish values? Let’s look at them in reverse order and see how they compare to the mitzvos of Parshas Ki Tezei, or at least some of them.

 

The pursuit of happiness is an abstract concept. One assumes that it was not meant to mean that every person should put themselves and their specific wants as first priority, but it does seem that this is how society has devolved in the decades that have passed. The halachos of the Torah in this week’s parsha, however, emphasize that the pursuit of happiness takes second priority to the “pursuit” of a harmonious community. Thus we have the commandment, and the detailed rules expanded upon in the Torah she’baal peh, of returning a lost object (Devarim 22:1-3) and, similarly, the halachos of helping even an enemy if his oxen have fallen on the road. We put others first.

 

The right to liberty is defined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary as the quality or state of being free; the power to do as one pleases, the freedom from physical restraint, and the freedom from arbitrary or despotic control. Is this different than the Pursuit of Happiness? Happiness is stating that how I  feel matters more than other people. Liberty means that my choices need to be without constraint. But in this week’s parsha, we learn about the laws of Yibum – the law by which a man must marry the widow of his brother if his brother died without children. There are, of course, halachos to exempt oneself, but the idea remains a firm part of Torah. A person does not necessarily have liberty in a Torah world. Even the most intimate aspects of a person’s life are constraint by law.

 

The right to life seems like an incredibly basic entitlement. And, in truth, most of Western Civilization is built on a Judeo-Christian foundation that places tremendous importance on life. But stating that one has a right to life implies that one has a right to no-life, that one can throw one’s life away or choose not to live. There is no right to life in the Torah; there is a responsibility to life. We see this in Parshas Ki Tezei in Devarim 22:8: “When you build a new house, then you shall make a parapet around your roof, that you shall not bring blood upon your house, if any man fall from there.”

 

It is a person’s responsibility to protect life – even on a roof-top upon which they never choose to tread. This verse, this one simple verse, reflects the identity of Klal Yisrael. Why are the numbers so disparate in the current war? Because it is built into us to know that we must protect life, that life is precious, and that life is not a right but a responsibility. Sadly, in the State of Israel, one must not only build parapets around rooftops but safe rooms and bunkers. The government invests in such evolved protection because every life matters.

 

Western civilization has taken the American Founding Fathers’ call to the right for Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness to its extreme, and, as a result, we’ve lost far too many Jews to attrition and assimilation. The evolution of Western society has allowed Jews an unprecedented opportunity to live peacefully in our gulus, to feel like we can be both who we are religiously and still be part of our host nation. And that is fine – I myself am a proud American and a proud Canadian – as long as being a Jew is what shapes our moral outlook.

 

Parshas Ki Tezei could be read as a list of rules, a review of halacha learned throughout the wandering in the Wilderness. Within that list, however, we see the true dignity of Torah: return a lost object; unload a beast lying under its burden; do not leave out a stumbling block; pay your workers’ wages on time; do not charge one’s brother interest nor hold on to the collateral of a borrower over night if it is something that they might need; not to have inaccurate scales; and etc. The parsha also talks about war, about bringing home a captured woman as a wife (how to treat her so that the truth of the relationship might be revealed and as a warning against the dangers that may come from such a union) and about remembering Amalek, who thought us a weak nation.

 

In this time period, when the shadows of the world continue to grow and the anti-Semitism long buried in the veneer of Western Civilization continues to be revealed, remember that this is who we are – a nation that values each person, their life and their dignity, because each life is essential to who we all are and not just because we want to make certain that our own happiness is guaranteed.

Parshas Ki Tetze: Taking One’s Own Measure

We are now halfway through the month of Elul, the month of preparation for the Jewish New Year. Rosh Hashana – head of the year – is, in truth, a misnomer that downplays the importance of the day. There are several “new years” on the Jewish calendar, but there is only one Yom HaDin, Day of Judgement, and it is for the Yom HaDin that we prepare throughout the month of Elul.

Preparing during Elul means different things to different people – hopefully more than just the cleaning, cooking, and shopping that the holiday season inspires. Some people begin the process of Cheshbon Hanefesh, of taking an accounting of their souls and reviewing their behavior over the course of the last year. Others focus on the future and begin to create lists of actions or character traits they wish to improve on in the year to come. There are, of course, those who stop to calculate how “good” or “bad” the year that past has been to them, and there are those who waste time worrying of who should be seeking them out to ask for Mechila (forgiveness).

Overall, though, the month of Elul is when Jews around the world focus on teshuva, repentance, and it is no surprise that one can find inspiration and direction on this process from the words of the parsha. This week is Parashas Ki Tetze, which covers a tremendous amount of halacha, listing most of the laws in a rapid-fire style and leaving deeper explanations for the Oral Torah.

Parashas Ki Tetze concludes with the commandment to remember the actions of Amalek, the nation who dared to attack the Israelites immediately after they exited the Yam Suf, theSea of Reeds and whom the Jewish people are commanded to destroy. One interesting aspect of the discussions of Amalek is that some commentators compare Amalek to the Yetzer Harah, the evil inclination, and see the commandments to annihilate Amalek as an injunction to constantly work against our natural desires that go against the moral fiber and the basic mitzvot of the Torah. It is no easy task, and it is a task in which every person must engage every single day.

Before the Torah speaks of Amalek, however, it addresses an important halachic situation that appears to be only randomly connected to remembering what Amalek did. In fact, it appears to be completely commercial in nature, and yet could, like the command to wipe out Amalek, be instructions for deeper moral fortitude: “You shall not keep in your pouch two different weights, one large and one small. You shall not keep in your house two different measures, one large and one small. You shall have a dull and honest weight, a full and honest measure, in order that your days will be prolonged on the land which the Lord your God gives you. For whoever does these things, whoever perpetrates such injustice, is an abomination to the Lord your God” (Devarim 25:13-16).

At face value there is absolutely no question that this section of the parsha is talking about fair commerce and making certain that there is not even a hint of dishonesty in one’s business. However, if one would find a theme in the preceding sections of Perek 25, it would be the avoidance of embarrassing another person. Indeed, the very first law, which is against adding any lashes to a flogging punishment, concludes “lest … your brother be degraded before your eyes” (25:2).

So how does a prohibition of uneven weights and measures connect to avoiding the embarrassment of another and the war against Amalek? And how does any of this tie into Elul?

One of the greatest challenges of human nature is judgementalism. On a developmental level it is necessary to study the behaviour of those around us and even to categorize behaviours as good and bad. But most often we go far beyond judging a behavior and judge other people as good and bad. Once we are busy weighing the actions of other people and measuring their value, then we must remember these pasukim (verses). How often do we live by a double standard – judging others for actions that we ourselves have, at other times, done? How easily do we criticize a neighbor or even a loved one for behaviors that in our own selves we excuse and rationalize? How common is it to publicly raise an eyebrow over someone else’s life only to close one’s door and act in the very same manner?

It is said that one of the reasons Amalek is considered evil is because they represent the belief in happenstance and chaos over the belief in Divine intervention. When we believe that we have the right… when we believe that we have the ability … to judge another person’s actions (especially when those actions have nothing to do with ourselves), then we too are, in a way, declaring a diminished belief in Hashem’s control of the world.

This brings us back to Elul. The Yom HaDin is fast approaching, and there is only one person whose behavior we must measure – our own selves. Do not worry about who needs to ask you for mechila, and do not judge them if they do not. Rather think about your own behavior, turn and evaluate your own year. Once your have put aside weighing the merits of others, you can focus on the greatest struggle of all (the one we avoid by focusing on others), and that is the constant work of overcoming the yetzer harah that impedes us from drawing closer to Hashem.

 

 

What’s the Shoo For? (Parshas Ki Tetze #3)

Shiluach Hakan, shooing away the mother bird, is just one of the numerous mitzvot detailed in this week’s parsha, Parshas Ki Tetze. The mitzvah itself seems simple, if not oddly mundane: “If you come upon a bird’s nest in the road, on any tree, or on the ground, and it has fledglings or eggs, if the mother is sitting on the fledglings or the eggs, you shall not take the mother on the young. You shall send away the mother and [then] you may take the young for yourself, in order that it should be good for you and you shall lengthen your days” (Devarim 22:6-7).

Many people cite the mitzvah of shiluach hakan as an example of the Torah’s compassionate treatment of animals, but then why take the fledglings or the eggs in the first place? Would it not be more compassionate to just keep walking? Perhaps, however, in this mitzvah we are able to witness the Torah’s overall combination of practicality and compassion. One’s practical, more animalistic self, comes upon a nest and thinks about food, about taking the easy prey, the sitting hen, and perhaps her young ones too. It is food, after all, and one has to have food. One’s compassionate, more spiritual self, thinks about all creatures being part of Hashem’s creation and would, perhaps, forego the whole idea. But in this one peculiar mitzvah, Hashem illustrates a path of compromise: Listen to your body - if you see a nest and want the eggs, you are probably hungry – but heed your soul – think about what you are about to consume, that this is part of the great creation and there is a compassionate way of behaving.

Nachmanides does not agree with the idea that shiluach hakan is a mitzvah about kindness to animals: “...The reason for the proscription is to teach us the trait of mercy and that we not become cruel. Since cruelty spreads in the soul of a man, as it is known with butchers that slaughter large oxen and donkeys, that they are 'people of blood,' 'slaughterers of men' [and] very cruel. And because of this they said (Kiddushin 82a), 'The best of butchers are the partners of Amalek.' And behold, these commandments with animals and birds are not mercy upon them, but [rather] decrees upon us, to guide us and to teach us the good character traits...” Nechama Leibowitz clarifies that “Nahmanides refuses to entertain the notion that the sending away of the mother bird is dictated by considerations of cruelty to animals. The precept is governed by purely educational considerations to inculcate kindness and compassion in our dealings with one another (Studies in Devarim, 219).

Whether the mitzvah of shiluach hakan is meant to teach the importance of kindness to animals or to bear a lesson to us about treating one another properly, it is a bit of a strange mitzvah, particularly in the modern age. One might question how frequently it would actually happen that a person would be walking by the road, see a bird's nest, and think to take the bird's young. Of course, for many generations we were an agrarian society and we lived in a far more ecologically diverse area, but still, one would probably have to be pretty hungry to look at a random nest and think “meal!” The fact of the matter stands, however, by the understanding that the Torah is relevant in every time and every place, so there must be some other – deeper – way to understand the mitzvah of shiluach hakan.

If we are not talking about a real bird (although the actual bird scenario is one that does happen and should be literally applied), but rather the idea of a bird and its nest, then the lesson of compassion in our dealings with others is truly transferable. It is interesting to note that this week’s parsha begins with the words ki tetze, when you go out. And while the phrase is referring to the verse "When you go out to war against your enemies...", there is an indefiniteness to the use of the word ki, when. It is not going to happen to every one, but when it does, be prepared. Shiluach hakan is very much of a “when you go out” mitzvah. It is not something that will definitely happen, and it is not something that one can create a scenario to make happen. Indeed, the pasuk describing the mitzvah emphasizes that the nest would be something that one comes upon. So too, in our every day lives many of us will not be in a position to have to choose a combination of seeming cruelty to effectively be both practical and compassionate.

Knowing that the Torah very much believes that "words can kill," perhaps we have the opportunity to understand this mitzvah differently. It is all too easy in the desire to rebuke or castigate individuals to condemn entire groups of people But if one thinks of the larger community as the mother and the individuals as the fledglings, then perhaps we have a modern means of applying the lessons of intuitive compassion inherent in shiluach hakan.

A Wink To Parenting (Ki Tetze #1)

One of the key strengths of Jewish life is the priority placed on having children and raising them properly. The Torah continually emphasizes how important it is to pass our teaching on to our children and to protect our future by protecting our children. Given the Torah’s attitude toward children, the case of the ben sorer umorer has always been both daunting and intriguing.

“If a man has a wayward and defiant son, who does not listen to the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and they discipline him and he does not obey them, his father and mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his town at the public place of his community. They shall say to the elders of his town ‘This son of ours is disloyal and defiant; he does not heed us. He is a gluten and a drunkard.’ Thereupon the men of this town shall stone him to death” (Devarim 21:18-21).

Can you imagine a world in which parents are allowed to give up on their disrespectful and disobedient children and take them out to be stoned? And yet this is what it seems the Torah is advocating.

The oral law clarifies the situation immensely. Presenting all the factors necessary to declare a ben sorer umorer, the oral law demonstrates how this halacha was basically impossible to enact since the boy must be recently 13, have had a balanced parenting and equal warnings from both parents, and should not have any extraneous issues. The boy must also be a glutton and a drunkard.

If it cannot ever be fulfilled, then what is the point of this mitzvah being written in the Torah? Is it a declaration of the importance of kibbud av v’aim? Is it a warning to the children or a warning to the parents? Could it be a way of reminding parents that it could always be harder?

The importance given to the voice of the father and the voice of the mother, to the equal influence of both parents, led to a thought that perhaps this mitzvah is a subtle reminder from Hakodesh Baruch Hu to the Jewish people that they are answerable to the Ultimate Parent. Time and time again, throughout the journey through the wilderness, Bnei Yisrael turned aside and rebelled. Like senseless, self-centered teens, the Children of Israel complained and disobeyed. More than once, Hashem was ready to be done with this stiff-necked people who were disobedient and gluttonous on the gifts Hashem provided. If one looks carefully at many of the incidents, one finds that Bnei Yisrael already had what they needed, but they wanted something more (such as the situation of the pheasants).

The voice of the father is Elokim, the judging aspect of God. This is din – right and wrong. The voice of the mother is Hashem, the merciful aspect of God. These two aspects of God were, thankfully, never in equal measure against Klal Yisrael – and so we were allowed to live, to grow and develop into our beautiful nation.

God understands that parenting is hard. This is one of the lessons of the ben sorer umorer. Parenting – especially teens – can be so hard that one might wish to wash their hands of the obligation for good. But it will never be that simple. In the subtle message of the ben sorer umorer, we can gain chizuk to continue to help our children grow just as Hashem continued to let Bnei Yisrael thrive into our beautiful nation.

Nations and Respect (Ki Tetze #2)

Within certain Jewish communities one can hear statements such as “a goy is a goy and can’t be expected to behave decently.” This is an attitude that is the result of centuries of anti-Semitic persecution, but, in my opinion, is really kneged Torah since all people are Btzelem Elokim, created in the image of God.

With this thought in mind, let us look at the second section of Devarim 23 particularly interesting. Although negative, it discusses different nations and the reasons why they may or may not join the nation of Israel.

“No Ammonite or Moabite shall be admitted into the congregation of the Lord, none of their descendants none of their descendants, even in the tenth generation, shall ever be admitted into the congregation of the Lord, because they did not meet you with food and water on your journey after you left Egypt, and because they hired Balaam son of Beor, from Pethor of Aram-Naharaim, to curse you.…. You shall never concern yourself with their welfare or benefit as long as you live. You shall not abhor an Edomite, for he is your kinsman. You shall not abhor an Egyptian, for you were a stranger in his land. Children born to them may be admitted into the congregation of the Lord in the third generation” (23:4-5,7-9).

Quite clearly the Torah recognizes the distinct character traits of global humanity – if not by each individual then certainly by nationally-inherited traits. In this regulation, the Torah is revealing something about these individual nations. The Ammonites and the Moabites were distant cousins of the Israelites, descendants of Avraham’s nephew, Lot. Thus when they refused Bnei Yisrael bread and water, it was particularly cruel as the Israelites were not complete foreigners to them but rather Semitic cousins with whom at least the necessities should have been shared.

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch explains the prohibition of Ammonites and Moabites ever entering the assembly of God and the Edomites and Mitzrim only after three generations thus: “The Jewish nation is to build itself up by…guarding feelings of general humaneness and kindness, as well as fostering those of gratitude.”

So how has it become acceptable today to view other nations with such haughty eyes, to acknowledge their humanity with lip service only? Of course, there is the fact of the emotional trauma our people have suffered generation after generation, but that is an external factor for a people who are meant to be continually striving to emulate Hashem. It is a difficult question because many people have trouble acknowledging that there is a problem since, after all, we are “the chosen people.”

This is an opinion piece but being the chosen people does not give us the right to look down on other nations. Rather it gives us the responsibility to show other nations how Hashem wants humankind to be (as Rav Hirsch stated so beautifully) filled with “humaneness and kindness.” Certainly, halacha differentiates how one is to treat Jews and non-Jews, because we are a family. How we treat our family, however, should be a model for how we treat others.

The fact is that this is not just a question of how we act. Every Torah observant Jew understands the significance of thought and intention, the power of the tongue and how talk inevitably is reflected in action. If, in our minds, all of the other nations are lesser, than our actions reflect this belief. With bullying so often in the news, our society is very much aware that the bullies are often those who are hurting inside themselves. A person cannot truly pull themselves up by putting others down, and this is a lesson for Klal Yisrael. We do not become better people by insisting that the other nations are lowly. We become better people by following the Torah and living Jewish lives.

In an era of increasing anti-Semitism, it is natural to draw tighter into ourselves. At the same time, we must remember that to be a “light unto the nations” we must be the type of people who lead the way to being Godly, and this cannot be accomplished with condescension, fear, or loathing in one’s eyes. Hashem made Adam (and Chava) and breathed His life into him. He gave His law, His blueprint, to Bnei Yisrael. Now we must use that blueprint to build the world He intended us to build.